


Four Drabbles

by The_Lady_Crane



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Sequence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Introspection, M/M, Male Slash, Non-Explicit Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexy Times, Suggestive Themes, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-19 05:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22206163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lady_Crane/pseuds/The_Lady_Crane
Summary: Ike and Soren settle into life in Askr.
Relationships: Ike/Senerio | Soren
Kudos: 42
Collections: THAG Drabble Prompt





	Four Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by four single-word prompts that I did in collaboration with my friend Lizzard_Writer. We randomly chose four words, and decided to see what we came up with to compare and contrast our writing styles. These are my entries into the challenge. The words were "icing", "hugs", "observation", and "memory". These are really just writing practice, but I decided to post my half just for funsies. I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> And just to clarify, we decided to write these blind - we didn't tell each other anything about what we were going to write, so we could avoid influencing each other.

>>> Icing <<<

Whoever said that baking was easy could go straight to the eternal blankness of oblivion. Soren sat in the kitchen of Castle Gloria, furious with himself and everything in this wretched place. He was about ready to kill Merric for suggesting that he use magic to cook. With an irritated groan, he surveyed the damage: icing on the counters, icing on the walls, icing on every utensil and fixture and even on the ceiling. Icing dripped down from the hanging pots and pans, splattering Soren’s already-splattered shoulders and head.

“Hey, Robin told me you’d be in he… re…” Ike trailed off as he appeared in the doorway, his eyes widening at the sight before him. “What’s all this?”

“Icing!” Soren spat bitterly, wiping as much of the white goop as possible from his clothes and face. “It’s icing, Ike. What did you _think_ it is? I’ve been tasked with baking a cake for the Day of Devotion festival, and one of Merric’s spells went awry, and the icing multiplied too quickly and exploded. So, there you have it.” He wiped a glob of icing off of his cheek, only managing to smear it. “Does that answer your question?”

The sage didn’t realize how intensely Ike was staring at him, until the vanguard had stepped over puddles of icing to stand in front of him. “Yes?” Soren said irritably as he searched for a towel.

“You look…” Ike’s face was redder than Soren had ever seen it. The sight gave him pause.

“Ike?”

“You’re really covered in it,” Ike said, feeling stupid, but he couldn’t help it. There was something suggestive about the white dollops that clung to Soren’s face and hair.

Kicking the door shut behind him, Ike advanced on Soren. He typically wasn’t all that fond of sweets, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up.

>>> Hugs <<<

There was something so comforting about a hug, and Soren had to admit that. Not just any hug, really – it had to be Ike. Few had tried to embrace him before, but those who did usually found themselves on the receiving end of one of Soren’s glares (or, worse, a wind spell). Only Mist was exempt from this, by virtue of being Ike’s sister, but even she could never get her arms around him for more than a second or two.

Ike, on the other hand, was allowed to hug him whenever and however he wanted. Soren trusted him completely. And over time, it became almost a second language for them; because Soren could often tell what Ike was feeling simply by his hugs alone.

Sometimes, Ike would catch him up in a tight embrace around his upper body. Then Soren knew that Ike was in a good mood, especially if his feet were dangling above the ground. Sometimes, the hug was quick, and hardly a hug at all – just a brief pull on his shoulders that was soon released. Then, Ike just needed to feel that reassurance that Soren was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Sometimes, the hug came accompanied by a terrified shout in the middle of the night, waking Soren in a moment of near panic before he realized that it was Ike who had him.

Those times were the hardest. It happened less and less frequently nowadays, but there had been a time when Soren had awoken almost every night in Ike’s tight hold. Soren’s heart hammered against his chest as he got his bearings. Ike would mutter an apology into inky black hair, but it wasn’t really necessary. As Soren’s pulse settled, so did his hands over Ike’s thick arms, patting and soothing the scarred skin.

There was no way that Soren could ever think badly of Ike when this happened. He was never annoyed with him, because he would sometimes wake up screaming, too, and Ike’s big strong arms would hold him tight even before Ike had fully returned to consciousness. Then the darkness of the past began to fade, little by little, until only Ike’s warmth remained. Soren could only hope that he could make Ike feel the same way.

>>> Observation <<<

Ike is more observant than most people give him credit for. He knows how to read people, as long as he’s familiar with them. And when it comes to Soren, Ike can read him better than he can read a book. He knows every slight expression, every subtle movement, that indicates Soren’s mood. It comes in handy, especially since Soren isn’t one to share his feelings openly.

It comes in even handier in bed.

Soren never shares his own needs or expectations, focusing instead on Ike. But Ike prefers to know that he’s bringing pleasure to his lover, so they can feel good together. Sometimes, like tonight, Ike doesn’t allow Soren to begin his analytical approach to mutual satisfaction. He dives in whole-heartedly, taking, taking until Soren can’t even think anymore.

They’re rutting together before long, but Ike doesn’t lose his cool. It’s like being on the battlefield, almost; he’s watching for the right opportunity, gauging his opponent, seizing on small openings to gain the upper hand. A touch here, a kiss there, a soft nip to sensitive skin. The subtle hitching of Soren’s breath, and Ike knows. He plunges, takes them deeper and deeper into the experience, listening to every note of Soren’s desperate song and changing his accompanying dance accordingly.

It’s entirely too much, but in just the right way. Ike knows that from the way Soren gasps and pants, the way his fingernails dig into Ike’s back. Soren bites him hard on the shoulder. Ike responds in kind, listening for that sharp intake of breath that tells him he’s gone too far, though it never comes. One arm looped under Soren’s knee, the other bracing against the mattress, Ike drives them both to bliss, watching his lover all the while.

>>> Memory <<<

In some ways, being in Askr feels like being in the afterlife. In Tellius, everywhere Ike went was a reminder of something that had happened before. It was familiar, and sometimes that was not a comforting thing. The old fort that had housed the Greil Mercenaries also housed most of Ike’s memories, and after his father’s death, they just hadn’t been the same. It was painful to walk through those doors and expect to see his father standing in the great hall, giving a briefing or discussing a job with Titania. Looking out on the yard, he could see the ghost of himself at a much younger and more naïve age, unaware of the hardship that awaited him then. He could see the blood on his hands, the dying faces of his enemies, his father’s final breaths. He saw his father killing his mother, too, though that memory had been so long suppressed that it was almost like a dream now. Even so, a warm breeze would remind him now and then, or the sight of magnolia trees. He could never tell when the memories would appear, because there always seemed to be something around to drag them out.

That was why he had left Tellius in the first place – to find somewhere that didn’t remind him, a place where he could be left alone by those who never saw the scarred man beneath the glamor of the hero. Only Soren came with him, because Soren always came with him. They were both looking for a new start, and Askr ended up being that new start.

Here, everything is so different as to be surreal. His father is alive – in fact, had never died. Ike is still a hero, but only one among many, just another face in the crowd. There’s something comforting about that. Here, he encounters the phantoms of the past only in his dreams. Upon waking, he’s right back in the somewhat humble Castle Gloria, with Soren in his arms and new people to meet and train with and learn from. Many of his friends are here, too, and now they can make new memories to overshadow the bad. It’s like paradise. It’s like he’s died and come into some sort of reward for his deeds in life.

Waking up on another bright morning, with Soren goading him to get up already and the smell of breakfast wafting through the halls, Ike couldn’t be more content. He grabs Soren’s wrist and pulls him into bed, muffling the sage’s surprised yelp with a kiss, and gets to work on making another wonderful memory.


End file.
